


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by taetaetiger (sexyvanillatiger)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Christmas Smut, Domestic, Gentle Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyvanillatiger/pseuds/taetaetiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I really can't stay.) But baby, it's cold outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

Yifan has a rug on the floor before his fireplace, but it's old and woven and very scratchy against their skin, so he lays a blanket down over it where he and Yixing can sit. They start side by side, holding hands and turning their heads to catch short, chaste pecks, but Yifan kisses harder, pushing closer, lowering Yixing to the ground. Yixing lets himself be strewn out across the blanket, alongside the hearth, his belly full and content from dinner. Yifan kisses him slowly and deeply. They both taste like roast and red wine, the warmth of the meal still sweet in their mouths. Beyond the sliding glass doors across the room, out onto the balcony, a blanket of snow is settling. Yixing doesn't notice, lost in the persuasion of Yifan's kisses.

Yixing's sweater is rucked up, sparking with static as it rubs against Yifan's. His slacks are twisted around his legs, wrinkles digging themselves in the bends of his knees and at his hips. His skin is hot beneath his undershirt, and he wishes he'd worn something lighter. Yifan bites at his lips and slides his hand up under Yixing's sweater, and the thought flees from his mind.

Yifan's kisses are infinite, Yixing's entire world narrowing to the slick press of their lips when he gets them. He tips his head back and pushes his fingers into Yifan's hair, urging him closer, gasping out a pleased breath when Yifan slips his tongue in. Yixing's hips curl, pleasure coiling itself low in his gut. He tries to close his legs to stop himself from grinding up against Yifan, but he only ends up tightening their hold on Yifan's hips. Yifan moans into his mouth, dipping forward, and Yixing is about to lose himself in the feeling when Yifan's clock chimes from the kitchen. Yixing breaks away with a gasp.

"What time is it?" he pants, trembling as Yifan drags his lips down Yixing's throat.

"Don't worry about it," he murmurs, his voice deep and rough. "It's too bad outside to drive home, anyways."

"What?" Yixing twists his head to glance outside, moaning at the snow piled several feet up along the glass doors. "Aiyo-wei…Yifan, how am I supposed to get home in this?"

"Just stay here," Yifan offers, rolling to the side to pull Yixing close. Yixing rests against him, stroking Yifan's chest absently as he considers it. He glances out the window again, shaking his head in the end.

"Lu Han will kill me if I don't come back tonight. I'll just drive really slow…"

But Yifan doesn't release his hold, squeezing Yixing closer instead. He presses kisses to Yixing's cheeks, mouthing at his jaw when he gets to it, and over the low whine of Yixing's moans, he says, "If you go out in that, you'll end up in a ditch. Look at those winds."

From the corner of his eye, Yixing can see them swirling madly, scattering the masses of fat snowflakes on their journey to the ground. He closes his eyes and shudders when Yifan sucks at his pulse point, pushing him away before he leaves a mark that Lu Han could see. "I _have_ to get home," he says adamantly. Yifan sighs and leans away, his dark gaze sultry as it drags over Yixing's face. Yixing reaches up to touch his lips, certain that they're swollen from use; when he does, Yifan smiles.

"At least stay until it's settled down a little bit." Yixing opens his mouth to protest, but Yifan cuts him off. "Imagine how I'd feel if I let you go out right now and you crashed on your way home." Yixing sighs, going limp in defeat. Yifan smiles and places a peck upon his lips. "I can make you a drink while we wait."

Yixing smiles. "Yes, please." Yifan leaves him with one final kiss before standing and ambling back into the kitchen. Yixing lays on the floor, watching the long lines of his legs at an angle. When Yifan disappears around the corner, he sits up, moving closer to the glass doors to peer outside. Yifan may have his motives, but he's right; it's absolutely terrible outside. Yixing is pulling nervously at his lips, trying to decide whether or not he should call Lu Han, when Yifan reenters the room carrying two drinks. He sets them both down on the coffee table and helps Yixing to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing him deeply before letting him settle on the couch.

Yixing takes his first sip while Yifan moves to put on some music. He has to lean over far to see the labels on his records, the only light in the room coming from the fireplace and the lit Christmas tree in the far corner. Yixing is close to standing and helping him when he finally draws out his prize with a triumphant sound. He returns to the couch with the nostalgic trill of jazzy Christmas music following him. Yixing offers him a spiced rum-flavored kiss; Yifan tries to take several more.

"The neighbors are going to think we're doing something," Yixing says when Yifan settles down very close to him. Yifan takes a sip of his drink, setting it aside before asking,

"Are we not doing something?"

Yixing smiles shyly; Yifan laughs at him. Yixing reaches over to swat at him playfully, unsuccessfully attempting retreat when Yifan grabs at his wrists. He only barely sets his drink down before Yifan is pulling him forward, resting Yixing against his chest.

"Don't worry about the neighbors," he says, nosing at the crown of Yixing's head. "It's a terrible night; they can't possibly expect you to leave in this weather."

"Mmm, you keep saying that," Yixing hums, even as he melts into Yifan's arms. He leans over to reach for his drink, but Yifan dips in with another kiss, and Yixing has to angle his head away from it it to laugh. Yifan makes a face at him, and Yixing just falls into him, cuddling close. "If it were up to you, the weather wouldn't clear up at all tonight."

"I can admit to that." Yixing doesn't notice Yifan's long arms snaking around him, underneath him, drawing him close, until he's in Yifan's lap. He gasps, wrapping his arms tightly around Yifan's shoulders in his surprise, and he thumps Yifan on the chest when he regains his bearings.

"Jongdae is going to be spreading rumors about me for the whole next month if I don't come home tonight, and you're not helping at all!"

Yifan smile politely. "We're only waiting until the storm settles down. It's not my fault the weather is getting worse."

Yixing glances over and moans miserably; Yifan is right. Snow continues to pile up against the glass doors, and Yixing can only imagine how bad it is down on the streets. He slumps helplessly against Yifan's chest, head pillowed on his shoulder as he asks, "What am I going to do?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Yifan responds anyways. "Relax," he says, pushing a sweet kiss to Yixing's forehead. "And maybe dress down a little. You're feeling hot under this sweater." Yifan inches his fingers beneath the hem, skirting along the edge of Yixing's undershirt. Yixing pushes his hand away and squirms with the intention of getting out of Yifan's lap. He doesn't get very far. "I'll tell you what: if the storm has died down by the time you finish your drink, I'll drive you home myself. I don't want you running around in this weather."

Yixing leans over to swipe his drink up off of the coffee table. "Cheers to that," he says with a sweet smile before taking a large swallow. Yifan plucks the glass from his hand when he comes up from it, setting it to the side before sliding his hand along Yixing's jaw. His throat is warm from the alcohol, his lips sweet from the cider, and Yifan kisses him slowly, gently, easing him in once more. Yixing refuses to be led. He pulls away, leaving only one chaste peck behind.

Yifan lets his head drop back against the back of the couch. He smirks at Yixing from beneath his lowered eyelids, looking as lazy and proud as a lion in the sun. Yixing bites his lip, and his stomach curls pleasantly when Yifan's eyes drop to follow the movement. He releases his lip with a gasp, colored slightly to sound like a moan. Yifan's hands tighten around Yixing's waist, and Yixing smiles an innocent smile.

He swings one leg around Yifan's lap so that he's comfortably straddling him, his slacks bunched up tightly at his hips. Yixing pulls at them, but there is no give left; when he looks up at Yifan entreatingly, Yifan is watching the bulge over his crotch where his pants have pulled the tightest. Yixing flushes, pushing at his shoulder to catch his attention, and Yifan snaps to with a bit more fervor than strictly necessary. His grin is menacing when he offers it.

"We can get you out of these, if they're getting uncomfortable."

For all his teasing, Yixing still flusters when Yifan gives back. " _Yi_ fan!" he snaps, covering his cheeks with his hands to hide his blush.

Yifan feigns innocence, even as he strokes his thumb across the boney curve of Yixing's hip. "What? I have some sweatpants you can borrow until you leave."

Yixing huffs, pointedly crawling out of Yifan's lap. "Just until I have to leave," he accedes, kicking Yifan's hand away where it gropes at him as Yifan stands. He turns his head to watch Yifan leave, biting his lip to steady his resolve against the broad line of Yifan's shoulders, the tapered cut of his waist, the round apple of his ass. Yixing clears his throat and sips his drink and stands to inspect the record jacket for the record still spinning on the table when Yifan starts to take too long. He's only just trying to read the track list on the back when Yifan calls out to him.

"Are you coming to change, or what?" he shouts from deeper in the apartment, and Yixing fumbles with the jacket in his surprise. He slides it back into its place amongst Yifan's other records with a grumble, smoothing his pants and his hair before following the hallway to Yifan's bedroom.

The closet door is open, its light the only source in the room. The glow it casts spills out, touching everything with a faint golden tinge. In this dim light, Yixing can see that the bedroom is empty, so he approaches the walk-in. "Yifan?" he asks.

"In here," Yifan replies, even though Yixing is certain that even Yifan wouldn't keep his sweatpants in a closet. He pokes his head around the corner, faced with Yifan's broad shoulders and long back. He enters, placing a hand against Yifan's waist to let him know that he's behind him; Yixing is a bit more than surprised when Yifan takes his wrist to pull him around, pressing him up against the wall in a kiss.

Yixing opens his mouth to exclaim his surprise, but Yifan dips his tongue in as soon as he does. Yixing whimpers and buckles, only held up by the wall and Yifan's strong handling. He clutches at the breast of Yifan's sweater, tilting his head back and sinking into the wall as Yifan steps closer, lining their bodies up. Yixing can no longer hide his interest, Yifan's thigh slotted between his hips and pressed right against the bulge of his arousal. His face flushes, heat flooding his cheeks, and he thumps weakly at Yifan's chest when they part.

"There were never any sweatpants, were there?" he asks, giving Yifan a very skeptical look. Yifan smiles boyishly, unfazed.

"There are. But I think you'd look much better without them." He nuzzles close to Yixing, dragging his nose over Yixing's cheek and down the shell of his ear. His breath is hot on the sensitive skin there, sending shivers down Yixing's spine. He bites his lip to curb his want, stifling any noises that Yifan might find encouraging.

Yifan retaliates to his silence by biting at his earlobe, sending sparks of pleasure through him. "Wu Yifan, you're a dog," he gasps.

"Yixing," Yifan says when he pulls back so that he can look Yixing in the eye. Yixing stares up at him, lips parted, cheeks red, surprised by the sincerity he sees in Yifan's gaze. He knows how Yifan feels about him, he's known it since their first date. Still, it steals his breath to see it so clearly in Yifan's eyes whenever their gazes catch for more than the span of a moment. "It's okay," Yifan murmurs, his voice deep and low and dark. "If you want me to stop, it's okay."

This is the part where Yixing is supposed to back up and brush himself off and suggest that they wait until their next date, or the next one, or maybe marriage. But he's already backed into the wall, and there's nowhere for him to go. He could push Yifan away and Yifan would let him. But Yixing looks up at Yifan beneath his lashes and says, "I don't want you to stop."

Yifan's brow jumps, his surprise evident, and Yixing is torn between irritation and amusement. He doesn't get the chance to express either when Yifan pulls him close and kisses him like a whirlwind, hard and desperate and fast, so fast, he's pulling away so soon that Yixing's head is spinning. "Bed?" he asks, and Yixing looks up at him. Yifan's face is hopeful, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip, looking so young and beautiful and so goddamn _provocative_ , that Yixing can't even speak. He just nods.

Yifan leaves the closet light on and the door open when he leads Yixing to the bed. It's a soft light, smoothing their skin and glowing in their eyes. Yifan slides his hands under Yixing's sweater, and he pulls it off dutifully, shivering against the bite of cool air. The cold of winter permeates everything, even though Yifan keeps his heat on and insulates his windows. Yifan's hands are warm through the thin material of Yixing's undershirt, and he presses into them, savoring the heat.

His slacks go next, thumbs hooked into his socks to pull them off when he gets to them. He sets all of it aside in a bunch, looking over his shoulder to see Yifan undressed to the waist and watching him with hungry eyes. Yixing shivers and looks away, pulling his undershirt up over his head before diving beneath Yifan's covers to hide himself away. When he looks up, Yifan is smiling, shaking his head, and pulling his own slacks off. Yixing drags his eyes over the broad planes of Yifan's chest, down his firm stomach to those long, straight legs. Yifan pulls the covers up just enough to join Yixing under them, sliding until he's covering Yixing's body with his own.

Yixing moans just to have him there. He opens his legs and appreciates the feeling of a man on top of him, Yifan's warmth trapped close to him by the covers. Their stomachs and chests slide together as Yifan resumes their gentle pace with kisses. Yixing slides his hands over Yifan's back, his delight with the feeling of Yifan's bare skin uncontainable.

They kiss for what feels like hours, until Yixing is hot and heavy and wanting in his briefs. He can feel Yifan's interest as well, rubbing against him whenever Yifan's hips twitch. Yixing thinks he could lay like this forever, beneath Yifan, wrapped tight in his arms, surrounded by blankets while the world slowly freezes around them. In fact, he's almost shocked when Yifan's hands begin to stray, stroking down his side to the waistband of his briefs. He whines, spreading his legs before he can think to stop himself.

But Yifan doesn't laugh or scorn him. He slides his thumb beneath the elastic and asks, "Can I…?" Yixing looks up at him and nods, lifting his hips so that Yifan can slide them off. Yixing wants to close his legs when Yifan tosses the briefs towards the rest of his clothes, but Yifan is there, holding his knees open, appraising him with such adoration that Yixing trembles, to be the thing that Yifan is looking at. Yifan doesn't make Yixing wait long before pulling off his own boxers, tossing them aside and giving Yixing a good look.

Yixing bites his lip, awed by what he sees. There's no way, he thinks. No way in the world that Yifan will ever fit inside him. He reaches down hesitantly, Yifan sitting still and letting Yixing move at his own pace; when Yixing takes Yifan's length in his small hands, he moans at the feel of it there. Yifan is hot and hard in his grip, big enough that Yixing's fingers only just meet his thumb on the other side. He squeezes, his gaze shooting up when Yifan gasps, and the tense expression of pleasure drawing Yifan's features tight is so beautiful that Yixing does it again, just to watch Yifan's lips part around a groan this time.

Yixing jumps when he feels Yifan touching him in return, his hand so big that he covers the head of Yixing’s cock completely and then some. Yixing arches into the touch, shameless in his surprise, and he shies away from the chuckle Yifan huffs out when he does. Yifan doesn't let him go far, releasing his cock to wrap an arm around his waist and press their bodies close. He mouths at Yixing's neck, moving up the muscle before coming to his ear and whispering, "Beautiful. You're so beautiful, Yixing."

Yixing whines and turns his head away, but Yifan follows him, mouthing at his throat once more, reaching across the bed towards the dresser where he pulls out an unopened bottle of lubricant. Yixing flushes and wants to look away, but he can't. He stares as Yifan breaks the packaging and opens the bottle for the first time. Yifan glances up at him and smiles before looking back down at his fingers where he squeezes out a small amount. When he closes the cap and sets the bottle aside, he asks, "Is this alright?"

Yixing nods, opening his legs to accept Yifan's hand. The lubricant is cold against him, but Yifan rubs until it is warm, his fingers circling Yixing's entrance until he's dying to be breached, clenching at the comforter where it's hooked over Yifan's shoulders. Yifan pushes one finger in to the second knuckle, and Yixing gasps, his toes curling at the feeling. It's not even Yifan's whole finger, but it feels like so much already. He stares into Yifan's eyes, flustered by the concentration he sees there, how Yifan looks up at him when he slides his finger the rest of the way in.

"Does it hurt?" he asks.

Yixing shakes his head. "No." Yifan smiles, curling his finger a bit before pulling it out and pushing it back in. Yixing moans, pushing up onto it as Yifan continues. The strange sensation of being filled fades into a complacent pleasure, and he breathes in time with every draw of Yifan's hand.

"Are you ready for another one?" Yifan asks him, his hand stilling and his finger curling in a way that has Yixing squirming in the bedsheets. He nods. The second finger does hurt, but not so terribly that he wants Yifan to stop. He bites his lip and runs his hands over Yifan's chest and moans when Yifan starts moving his hand again, the burn of the stretch overtaken by the sweet friction of Yifan's fingers fucking into him. He presses his head back into the pillow beneath him, gasping when Yifan bends forward to suck at the skin of his throat.

Yixing is thoroughly distracted when Yifan slips a final finger in, twisting his hand to drag his knuckles across Yixing's walls. Yixing bucks, his cock hard and wanting. He bends his knees and pushes himself down onto Yifan's fingers, whimpering when Yifan pulls them away. He reaches over Yixing for the lubricant, and Yixing tenses when he thinks of what's coming next.

Yifan smooths a hand over his thigh when he notices, and says, "If you want me to stop, that's okay." Yixing looks up at him, biting his lip and pulling Yifan down to kiss him. Their lips work slowly, gently, the kiss sweet and reassuring.

"I don't want you to stop," Yixing tells him when they part, taking the lubricant from Yifan and squeezing a generous amount into his own hand. He puts the bottle aside and reaches down for Yifan, sliding his slick hand across the length of Yifan's cock. Yifan shudders above him, dipping his head down to rest against Yixing's shoulder. Yixing strokes for longer than he needs to, enjoying the slick heat of Yifan in his palm as much as he does the low noises that Yifan can't hold in. It's only when Yifan pushes his hand away and shuffles forward that Yixing lays back against the sheets, trying to relax.

The head of Yifan's cock at Yixing's entrance feels bigger than it did in Yixing's hand. He bites his lip and closes his eyes when Yifan presses forward, his stomach tight with nerves. Yifan finally breaches him, the head popping in and the girth of his shaft following easily, and it does hurt. Yixing whimpers, and Yifan stops. Yixing breathes through his nose, uncurling his fingers where he's twisted them up in Yifan's sheets and fanning them out in a bid to relax. Yifan runs a hand through Yixing's hair, pressing a kiss to his temple and asking him, "Are you okay?"

Yixing nods. "You can keep going," he whispers, his voice hoarse with tension.

Yifan proceeds, but slowly, in a way that prolongs the sensation of being stretched to his very limits. Yixing pulls him closer to speed him up, to get it over with, and Yifan lets him. He slides in deep, his hips flush against Yixing's skin, and he settles in with all of his weight bearing down on Yixing. Yixing, who feels as though he can barely breathe, is grounded by the presence.

Yixing expects that Yifan will set a pace for them, but he doesn't. He doesn't move, he just breathes heavily and holds himself still above Yixing. Yixing looks up at him, tracing his fingers over Yifan's strong jaw, and he says, "I'm okay now."

"Ready?" Yifan asks him then, taking Yixing's hand from his face and braiding their fingers together. Yixing nods, and Yifan finally rolls his hips, the smallest thrust feeling so large inside of Yixing. His mouth drops open, eyes widening, and Yifan leans forward to kiss him. Yixing moans into it when Yifan thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster. He wraps his legs around Yifan's hips, drawing him in and keeping him there. Yifan groans deeply, wrapping his free arm around Yixing's waist to press their bodies together. Yixing clutches at Yifan's back, his moans escalating in pitch until he is whining with every thrust.

"God, Yixing, you feel so good," Yifan moans, a sheen of sweat shining golden in the light spilling from the closet. Yixing mewls when Yifan grinds in deep to punctuate his praise.

"Oh, Yifan, please," he begs, bucking his hips up to rub his arousal against the firm planes of Yifan's stomach. Yifan unwinds his arm from around Yixing to reach between them, taking Yixing in a trembling grip. He strokes in time with his thrusts, driving Yixing closer and closer to the edge. Yixing slides his hand down their bodies to join Yifan's on his cock, squeezing just enough to send him over the edge with a gasp. Yifan strokes him through it, his thrusts only slowing when Yixing whines from the sensitivity.

Yifan stills, breathing like he has just run a marathon, releasing Yixing's cock and placing his hand against the mattress to support his weight. Yixing reclines lazily, his head floating, his body buzzing, his extremities tingling. When he opens his eyes, he finds Yifan watching him, lips parted in a look of reverence. Yixing blushes, and he rolls his hips down against Yifan's still wanting erection just to relieve himself of the attention. Yifan moans and takes the bait, descending into a mad, frantic pace once more.

Yixing holds Yifan through it, the pleasure of being fucked savory now that the desperate edge has been curbed. Yifan's thrusts stutter, losing their rhythm and catching wildly before he presses in deeper than he has of yet and stopping there. Yixing strokes his back, letting Yifan ride it out inside of him. When Yifan finally comes down, Yixing takes a kiss from him, and Yifan gives him several more. They lay together for a while, dozing in and out, Yifan softening inside Yixing until he is unable to remain inside any longer. He pulls away and slips from the bed with a promise to return.

When he does, he bears a warm, wet washcloth and a soft towel. He cleans Yixing thoroughly, wiping off his dirtied stomach before running the cloth over his sore, swollen entrance. Yixing squirms, and Yifan smoothes his hand over the inside of Yixing's thigh to temper him. When Yixing is clean, Yifan dries him and tucks him in, leaving only to toss the dirty cloths into the hamper and put out the light in the closet. The room is dark and cold outside of the blankets, but beneath them, Yifan holds Yixing close, and Yixing is warm and safe in the embrace. He turns his head to look through the bedroom window, smiling when he does.

"The storm has died down."

"Has it?" Yifan lifts his head to look out, and Yixing can see the moment Yifan remembers his promise crossing over his features, tightening them with distaste. Yixing laughs, letting Yifan hold him tight. He doesn't expect to be taken home any time soon; the streets will still be impassable, even if the snow has stopped falling and the winds have quieted.

Besides, he's already settled in Yifan's arms. He would be very hard pressed to conjure up the desire to move. They lay in a comfortable silence, Yixing tucked beneath Yifan's chin, and when he seems on the cusp of falling asleep, he feels Yifan's voice rumble through his throat. It takes him a moment to make sense of the words.

"I love you," Yifan says, voice barely above a murmur. Yixing pulls away to look up at him, and Yifan tips his head to look down at Yixing. His face is straight, but Yixing knows him well enough to see the signs of unease without having to look for them. He smiles and cups Yifan's face in his small hand, telling him,

"I love you, too."

Yifan visibly settles, the tension leaving him like water from a cracked bottle. He curls around Yixing, pulling him close once more, and there is nothing left for them to say before they fall asleep, the syncopated beats of their hearts pressed together saying enough already.

In the morning, Yixing calls Lu Han and is appropriately cowed. He apologizes no less than ten times. He swears that he only stayed because of the storm, and Yifan politely keeps his lips sealed until Yixing hangs up the phone. Yixing looks at him, noting the tense expression on Yifan's face, and he frowns. "What?"

It will be more than enough for Lu Han to see him limping when Yixing gets home, so his lie is already in danger. But when Yifan indicates vaguely towards his throat, Yixing jumps up, rushing to the bathroom with all the grace of a newborn foal and wailing when he sees Yifan's work in a purpling bruise over the thin flesh there. "Yifan!" he cries, whirling on him when Yifan enters the bathroom behind him. Yifan at least has the decency to look sheepish. "Jongdae will never let this go!" Yifan's lips tighten as he works to restrain a smile, but he does a poor job. Yixing's eyes flash dangerously. "Go ahead, laugh now. Lu Han is going to _kill_ you when he sees this."

To Yixing's delight, Yifan isn't smiling after that.


End file.
